


the song of your soul

by andrewminyards



Series: we are all the pieces of what we remember [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bard Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff and Angst, Human Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Role Reversal, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Slice of Life, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewminyards/pseuds/andrewminyards
Summary: I’ll sing for you, Geralt had once told him, eyes earnest and soft. Jaskier can’t sing anymore, can't touch anyone’s heart with lilting songs - but Geralt has music in his soul now, shaped by the joy and vibrancy of Oxenfurt.Jaskier has lost his music. He hasn't dared to bring up his past memories of Oxenfurt, but with Geralt, maybe Jaskier can regain some part of himself. Oxenfurt brought Geralt back to him, after all.*Written for Witchertober Day 2: Oxenfurt, featuring a small snippet from the lives of Reverse!Geralt and Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: we are all the pieces of what we remember [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895686
Comments: 20
Kudos: 110





	the song of your soul

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 2 of [witchertober](https://bamf-jaskier.tumblr.com/post/630799461708382208/so-just-in-case-anyone-wants-a-prompt-list-for), set in my reverse au where canon jaskier and geralt are 'reborn' into a world where their roles are reversed
> 
> i was NOT planning on writing for this prompt but uh,, this idea hit me and i had to write it skdjfn

Oxenfurt. Jaskier hasn’t been here in decades; hasn’t been here in this lifetime, hasn’t dared to brave the pain of his memories.

But Geralt had looked so forlorn at being away from Oxenfurt for so long, and who is Jaskier to deny him, when he knows exactly what Geralt is feeling, knows how much Oxenfurt means to Geralt, the way it had to Jaskier once upon a time?

And maybe - maybe he can regain some part of himself, the part that was lost in the agonising, unbearable pain of the Trials, lost in the bloody violence of the Path. The part of his soul that has been locked away ever since he became a witcher, a part that’s filled with music, with song.

Jaskier hasn’t dared to touch a lute ever since - ever since. He hasn’t dared to let himself open up to music. But looking at Geralt, whose green eyes are sparkling with life as he takes in the towering spires of the academy, the intricately carved arches and pillars, whose shoulders have lost all their tension, Jaskier thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can slowly open up that part of his soul again.

It’s been so, so long since Jaskier was last in Oxenfurt, but it’s so painfully familiar, settling something within him that he thought he’d lost. The streets are filled with laughing students, books in their hands and excitement in their eyes as they amble around aimlessly, filled with professors rushing around the campus, filled with people wandering the bustling town, full of colour and life. 

The atmosphere, busy and vibrant, makes Jaskier’s memories of his past life spring into vivid colour as he recalls his own education at Oxenfurt, the days spent chatting with friends and sitting in lectures, days spent buried in his songbook and his fingers cramping from hours spent on the lute. Jaskier feels his hand curl around an invisible lute, fingers dancing over unseen strings, and he clenches his hands into a tight fist as he focuses on shutting out the overwhelming sounds and sights around him.

He’s lost so much. 

A gentle touch, and Jaskier turns his head to meet Geralt’s green eyes, wide and concerned.

“You alright?” Geralt murmurs, his hand warm on Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier doesn’t think he’s ever seen Geralt look so open before, his posture loose and easy, even as his brows furrow in worry, and Jaskier tries not to think about how Oxenfurt used to have the same effect on him. But that was decades ago. “Jaskier?”

“It’s exactly the same,” Jaskier blurts out, and Geralt makes a soft noise. “I haven’t… I thought…”

Geralt’s hand slides down his arm to caress his hand, running his fingers over Jaskier’s knuckles. “Was this… was this a bad idea?” Geralt asks, and it’s all Jaskier can do to not flick his gaze to the lute that’s slung across Geralt’s shoulders. “We can go. If you want.”

Jaskier musters a small smile. It feels forced, and he hates it, hates how awkward he feels in the city that had once been his home. “It’s fine,” he says. Destiny must be having so much fun with them - now, Geralt is the one with music in the depths of his soul, and all Jaskier knows of music is the rhythmic clash of swords and the song of a dagger being flung through the air. “I’ve missed this place.”

Geralt’s mouth twists unhappily, and he leans closer to Jaskier, pressing their bodies together. “Does it - does it hurt?” Geralt whispers as he wraps an arm around Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier sinks into Geralt’s touch, Geralt’s wild curls tickling his face, and Geralt continues, “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Closing his eyes, Jaskier breathes in, breathes out, listens to the way a young musician’s voice soars over the bustling streets, to the lilting notes of a flute that float softly from a window above him, and he aches and aches and his swords are too heavy, his armour too bulky, memories of another life long past washing over him. Memories of a lute in his hands instead of a sword, memories of being dressed in colourful silks instead of dark armour, memories of his cheeks hurting from smiling too much, a sensation he hasn’t felt in decades.

It’s painful, it’s bittersweet, it _hurts_ ; it’s a life Jaskier knows he will never get back, a life that is no longer his but is Geralt’s now. Geralt, his love over two lifetimes, who’s curling his arm tighter around Jaskier, who has music in his soul, who smiles and laughs far more easily than he used to when he was a witcher.

Oxenfurt is painful for Jaskier. But it has made Geralt bright and open and _happy_ , and with this knowledge, Jaskier thinks he can bear the pain, can bear the reminder of his loss. 

_ I’ll sing for you _ , Geralt had once told him, eyes earnest and soft. Jaskier can’t sing anymore, can't touch anyone’s hearts with his music, but Geralt can now, and it was Oxenfurt that made Geralt that way. It was Oxenfurt that shaped who Geralt is today, who brought him back to Jaskier. 

“I love you,” Jaskier breathes out, feeling a smile curve his lips, tinged with melancholy, and he presses a chaste kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “This… it brings back memories. But you’re happy here, aren’t you, Geralt?”

Geralt hums, a low, melodic note, and Jaskier whispers, “Oxenfurt was my home, once. Now, it’s yours. I’m so glad you have that.”

“No,” Geralt disagrees, drawing back to look Jaskier in the eyes. “Oxenfurt is important to me, but it isn’t… it isn’t my home. _You’re_ my home, Jaskier, and you were my home in our old life as well as this one. You’ll always be my home.” 

A helpless smile stretches across Jaskier’s face as Geralt leans in for a fierce kiss, cupping Jaskier’s face in his hands as they twine around each other, in the shadow of the grand towers of Oxenfurt, surrounded by the rush of vibrant life of the city, and tension seeps from Jaskier’s shoulders as he melts into Geralt.

He may have lost his music, but he has Geralt - and Geralt’s music is more than enough.

“Well, I do quite like that Oxenfurt has made you rather eloquent,” Jaskier teases as he pulls away. “More talking, and less ‘hm’s.” 

Geralt huffs a soft laugh, red curls wild and tangled where Jaskier had run his hands through them, cheeks flushed and lips red, and suddenly, Oxenfurt doesn’t seem quite so painful anymore, past memories merging into the present with something more colourful and vibrant.

“Hey, I talk,” Geralt protests, and Jaskier rolls his eyes fondly, disentangling himself from Geralt and lacing their fingers together as he pulls Geralt through the streets once again, weaving through throngs of people, who part in the face of a witcher. 

“Come on,” Jaskier says, heart a bit lighter than it had been when he first stepped foot into the city. The young musician’s voice reaches his ears again, and Jaskier finds himself leaning into the gentle melody, finds himself enjoying the graceful tones of the flute. “Tell me about your experience here. Tell me everything.”

And Geralt smiles at him, soft and sweet. “Oh, I’ll tell you everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr [@jaskicr](https://jaskicr.tumblr.com/) and scream at me about witcher jaskier!


End file.
